


settle

by rostovslover



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Mutual Pining, Pining, din is touchy, its sweet, its touchy, longing touches, touch starved din i suppose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28425741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rostovslover/pseuds/rostovslover
Summary: despite how connected you are to each other, you and Din have only limited yourselves to mere hand touches. but he’s in love and it needs to come out.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 94





	settle

The Razor Crest shifted in the air, shaking the bundle of flower against the windshield. They had been picked in a small village, temporary lodging for you and the Child while Din tracked a smuggler from several planets over. It was calm and lush and green and you had been thrilled to present your companion with the little purple bouquet. It wasn’t much, small, half wilted, and tied off with a thin piece of sewing string from your pack but he’d taken it gently in his hands and vowed to put it somewhere he’d always see it. To always have a reminder of you.

When all was said and done, the bounty caught, and you’d found your way back into the ship something had seemed different, more domestic. Floating around in an endless expanse of darkness, just talking. It was so simple, so innocent. Din wasn’t accustomed to the gentleness of domesticity, with his legs stretched out onto the dash and your soft presence floating around the cabin. He sat, still and quietly, listening to your voice, absolutely entranced. He had lived years, decades, on his lonesome, lone bandit doing as he pleased with a lack of regard to anything else. He could go and do terribly risky things. He could almost get himself killed and then thrive off of the adrenaline of living and no one would say a thing. But then there was a child, something small and fragile. He had a life in his grasp, something that would only flourish if he fed and watered it and gave it the right amount of love and sunlight. One lapse of judgement and suddenly the entirety of the universe rested right against his cold leather gloves. Gloves that did unimaginable things, cruel and incredible things. They smelled of blaster residue and guilt, payment for taken lives. He was ruthless until he wasn’t. Until he found a baby, alone, and saw a mirror, saw himself. It had softened him, reduced him to positively nothing.

The child was all he vowed to have, the only thing he would allow himself to love. And Din refused to believe he could open himself to anyone else, refused to let himself have anything else that could hinder him. But Maker, if the body really was made of stardust then a constellation had to give up two pieces of itself for the both of you to be here, together, perfectly aligned. He had surrendered himself entirely at your first words to him, fallen to his knees instead of replying and from that moment forwards Din Djarin, the feared bounty hunter in all his hard, hand-forged armour, had belonged to you. His soul melded into you.

The term “soulmate” was to be used lightly, and as much as he’d thrown the possibility around it wasn’t plausible. Impossible even, that you could be soulmates. Twin flames were more akin to what he felt you were. After one night in a murky inn, it seemed the feeling was mutual. As you’d pressed your hand to his, bare, ungloved, the only part of him you’d allowed yourself to touch. But it had been everything to him. Din had yearned for contact, and when the warmth from your palm bled into his something burned all through him and it still hadn’t left. You hadn’t left, you had burrowed yourself into his heart.

Din sat back in the pilot seat of the Razor Crest, feet propped against the dash. You were talking about a book you’d picked up in the village. It was on botany and certain botanical environments in different parts of the galaxy. You’d known most everything in the book already but it was still interesting and it contained a new tincture. It had also aided in putting the Child to sleep on several restless night. A habit he’d picked up since you’d been the one to put him to bed, only going down with a story, regardless of what it was you were reading. It was something so sweetly domestic, pure and untouched by anything happening through the galaxy.

Din’s life, from an impressionable age, had controlled by a creed. He had grown up loved and cared for but not with parents, he hadn’t ever had a textbook definition family. And in his line of work he couldn’t afford to be familial, let alone paternal. The child was accidental, at best. A cruel twist of fate had put them in the same path, The Child who owed his life for merely existing and Din, who was so feared that sometimes, the terror seeped into his own conscious. But you. You made him want to give up all the violence. He was willing to set his blaster down and never pick it back up. He would shed his brutality, pull himself from a rouge nomadic life if only for a moment more of this life. To be in love, to have a child, to nurture a family for himself. He wanted, so desperately, to have and to hold. He had also never divulged any of this to you.

“Its late-” You paused to look into the dark space outside of the ship, “In theory. We’ve been awake for a while is more accurate,”

“You can go to bed, I’ll manage with the kid.”

“We have Din, you’ve kidnapped someone since you slept last,”

Din scoffed, “Kidnapped is a little bit heavy, also incredibly incorrect. I do not kidnap, I get paid for what I do.”

“Kidnappers get paid, I think that’s the point?” You pushed yourself out of the chair, “Are you coming?”

Din looked back to the console, “Fine, let me just put in the coordinates then I’ll be down, okay?”

You nodded, “Make sure not to get us lost.” You gathered your book and the blanket thrown over the headrest of The Child’s seat before opening the doors to the hallway.

You were settled into bed, pajamas on, afghan wrapped around your shoulders, and book in your clutch, when Din came down the ladder. He shuffled through the room, setting things in their rightful place, blaster under the bed, gloves on the nigh table.

“I’m turning the lights off, is that okay?”

You nodded, “Yes, yeah I’m done with this chapter.” You dogeared the page as the room was cast into darkness. The thick quilt on the bed was pushed back and the mattress sunk under his weight. There was a quiet shuffle as he removed his gloves, his helmet, and the rest of his heavy armor.

He was warm, it seemed to radiate from him. Even as he lay a lifetime away from you, only touching hands. It was pitch black and his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Did you see much of the village when we stopped?” You asked quietly, playing with his fingers.

“Enough.”

“What does that mean? Enough,”

“I saw enough of it, it was nice, lots of farmland. Did you like it?”

You nodded, moving to run your fingers over the palm of his hand. Despite how rough his line of work was Din’s hands were soft, all the years spent under thick leather gloves, “It was stunning, the baby liked it too. He really likes playing with other kids, he’s good at making friends.”

“Do you think he gets lonely?” You felt the tips of Din’s fingers shyly prod at the delicate skin on your wrist. The excitement that bubbled into your lungs seemed almost pathetic, like a schoolgirl holding hands with her crush for the very first time. But you’d never had his bare hands anywhere but your own and now he was moving up your arm.

“No, he seems content here, with us.”

His fingers were at the crook of your elbow now, pressing into the soft flesh and he almost seemed to tug at you, tug you closer, and you gave. His voice had quieted to accommodate the closed distance, “Friends couldn’t… hurt? Other kids to be around for more than just a couple of days.”

You let one of your fingertips start to dance up his bicep, “What exactly are you insinuating Mando?”

“It would be nice to settle in,” He gingerly settled his hand against the curve of your neck.

Your heart raced and you crooned into him, a soft shudder rolling through your shoulder, “Settle in?”

He carefully pushed a piece of hair from your eyes, “To be somewhere, permanently maybe,”

“Like to have a home, you mean?” You reached to hold the back of his hand against your cheek.

“Yes… maybe. Not necessarily, I mean not if you didn’t want to. Not… you but just in general.” He paused, thumbing at your cheek, “Yes you, if you wanted.”

“Din,” You murmured, reaching into the dark for him.

He caught your wrist, “I’m here. Right here.” And it was very quiet, practically silent besides the soft whirring of the engine. The air changed as he leaned closer, hair brushing against your jaw, “Is this okay?”

“Its perfect,” You whispered back up to him.

Slowly, very slowly, he pressed his mouth to yours. The stubble dusted against his jaw scratched your cheek as he tilted his head. His breath, softly flitting against your skin was warm and the hands your face made you feel safe, grounded. He smelled like leather and sweat and the freshly laundered shirt he wore. Din was home. He was soothing and familiar and home. Absolutely perfect. Absolutely wonderful.

Pulling back slowly you looked up to where you assumed he was, “Din, where exactly would we be settling in?”


End file.
